Another Heart Calls
by dwennie
Summary: How had he fallen in love again? How had Lisbon slipped through his defences like that? And, more importantly, how had he not realized it until now? J/L.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**Well, here we have it. My attempt at a multi-chapter Jisbon fic. I was aiming for a longer chapter, but it didn't quite work out that way. I'll try to post new chapters every couple days, however I warn you I'm incredibly busy with softball and school right now. I will try my best. If one person wants me to continue, then I will.**

**

* * *

**Jane wandered out of Lisbon's office, pondering what she had just said. Could she really believe that? Could she really believe that he didn't care about her or her job? He didn't see her reasoning. He'd screwed up, yes, but to claim he didn't care? That was a little much. If he didn't care, why had he saved her life and sacrificed a new lead in the Red John case? Why did he take time out of every day to make her smile?

He shook his head in frustration. No, he didn't understand one bit. Clearly, he would have to knock some sense into that woman.

In the bullpen, Jane was met with hostility. Cho sent a glare his way, Rigsby pointedly looked away, and Grace ignored him completely. He brushed it off. After all, their reaction wasn't unexpected. As far as they were concerned, the entire thing had been the fault of one of his "escapades", and no one on the team was remotely pleased with the results. Even Jane had to admit the outcome was not ideal.

After all, Hightower had given Lisbon an official reprimand and a promise of employment termination if Jane got so much as another complaint. Which he seemed to get a lot of.

He winced inwardly as he thought of Lisbon's reaction once again.

_Lisbon left Hightower's office, frustration pouring off her in waves. The team watched her apprehensively as she approached, and she calmly informed them of the situation. Her eyes betrayed her temper, however, and Jane felt rather than saw the glares of the 4 agents being thrown his way._

_Lisbon brushed by him with only two words. "Office. Now."_

_Her words were calm, deceptively so. Jane sighed, he did in fact feel bad. He just hoped he would get a chance to apologize when Lisbon was done with him. She might just allow herself the pleasure of shooting him this time. He followed her sheepishly, and as soon as he had entered, she slammed the door shut none-too-gently._

"_Jane."_

"_Lisbon?" he asked, his voice coming out more like a squeak._

"_Please, do tell how this happened. I clearly remember ordering you to stay put. You disobeyed a direct order from me, you embarrassed me and the team, you insulted one of the most powerful men in California and you didn't even catch the killer," she challenged, her eyes flaring up with barely controlled fury._

_Jane forced himself not to flinch away from her. He was used to being told off, exasperated banter, and her occasional disbelief, but true anger was new to him._

"_I'm sorry, Lisbon. But now I know the boyfriend killed Freya, and if you'll just help me with this idea I had—"_

"_No, Jane! You don't get another chance, not after this time. You know as well as I do that I'm barely holding on to my job, and for once I need you to let us do our jobs without interfering."_

"_But he's guilty!" Jane interjected indignantly._

"_We know that! We need evidence to hold him on, and any more of your crap will get me thrown out of here," Lisbon snarled._

_Jane resisted the temptation to hit something. Didn't she know that this plan was fool proof? Hadn't every time he'd caught the criminal been proof enough for her?_

"_Look Jane," she said apologetically, and her voice softened slightly. "I know how badly you want justice for the victim's family, but you have to let us do this our way this time. I want to see the bastard locked up as much as you do."_

"_Obviously not," Jane snapped, and he knew instantly that he'd crossed a line. He wished he had held his tongue, but now that the words were said there was no taking them back. Not even an apology would be able to soothe the nerves his words had hit._

_Lisbon stopped dead in her tracks, and she marched up to him, backing him against the wall. "Don't. You. Dare," she hissed. "Do you know how much shit we deal with because of you? I had hoped you would care enough to behave yourself, for my job if nothing else, but clearly you don't."_

_Jane flinched at her words, mainly because he knew some of them held some truth. Lisbon backed away from him, looking all of a sudden very tired. He followed her to her desk, and he watched in concern as she dropped her head into her hands, fingers attempting to massage away the oncoming headache. He felt another wave of guilt wash over him as he observed the woman in front of him. He'd been so preoccupied recently that he hadn't had the chance to check in on Lisbon's well-being as often as he would have liked, and she could have used the check-up this time. Come to think of it, Hightower's ultimatum had been stressing her to no end recently. Jane himself had never taken her threat too seriously, but Lisbon didn't share his optimism. And after today's events, she probably had good reason to be cautious. Jane still didn't believe that her job was in serious danger, but he couldn't blame her for not wanting to take any chances._

"_Lisbon? Are you—"_

"_Just go, Jane," she asked quietly, and Jane couldn't bring himself to deny her request._

Now, sitting on his couch, Jane thought. He knew that Freya's boyfriend, Mark, hadn't been foolish enough to leave any condemning clues behind, but he also knew that Lisbon would never forgive him if he interfered with the investigation again, seeing as her job was on the proverbial chopping block. And, as much as he wanted justice, he realized that he couldn't bend Lisbon's trust anymore than he already had. It hung by such a thin thread in the first place.

He had always known that if push came to shove, he would never intentionally risk her job. But not being willing to lose her trust, her respect? He had done it before, what was different this time?

This was a new revelation.

How had this happened? When had petite, feisty Teresa Lisbon started having this effect on him? He was a broken man, hell-bent on revenge and nothing was going to stand in his way.

If he had thought the same thing one week ago, Jane wouldn't have had a single doubt. Now, a distraction by the name of Lisbon kept floating to the front of his mind, unbidden but definitely not unwelcome.

Why on Earth was this happening? Had his cautious friendship with Lisbon somehow morphed into something else? As Jane mulled over several key events of the past year, he concluded that something must have shifted. The flirting was more frequent, they were more comfortable with each other, hell, they had even danced not too long ago.

Jane could only come to one logical conclusion. He was in love with Teresa Lisbon.

The epiphany shocked him.

How had he fallen in love again? How had Lisbon slipped through his defences like that? And, more importantly, how had he not realized it until now?

* * *

**Care to tell me what you think so far? I'll love you for it.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Still no. Though I am rather glad I don't own the Season 2 finale.**

**Thank you so much for all the lovely alerts, favourites, and reviews, especially to Diana because I can't thank her like I'd like to. You guys are all awesome.**

**

* * *

**Jane was still pondering his revelation hours later, when the CBI Headquarters were practically deserted. The janitors were his only company; even Lisbon had left at this hour. He still wasn't sure if she had left to get much-needed sleep or by a desire to get away from him. He claimed Lisbon was transparent, but in reality she managed to keep too much from the mentalist. Like her heart.

As dawn neared, Jane lay with his eyes closed on his couch, resting but never sleeping.

His mind churned. Lisbon—_Teresa_. Just the thought of her made his stomach rich with butterflies, and he couldn't help but wonder how far gone he was. He couldn't help but wonder, and he couldn't help but feel the guilt. The blond man fingered his wedding ring, trying to work out when he had gone from vengeful widow to... whatever he was now. He couldn't put a name to it yet, he simply wasn't ready. Jane couldn't believe this was happening. He hadn't felt anything remotely close to this since his wife. The most shocking part wasn't even his falling in love. It was the amount of time it had taken him to piece the puzzle together. When he analyzed his behaviour this time around, he was dismayed to find that it had taken over 4 months for him to come to this revelation.

Still, no matter how far he had fallen, Jane couldn't make himself forget his need to avenge his family. As much as he might want to change, Red John would still die by his hand. He would still go to the ends of the Earth to make the monster suffer, and Lisbon would still have to arrest him. It would hurt her, but she was strong. She would be fine, if not right away then someday. If they were to get romantically involved? Jane wasn't as sure. He refused to be the one to break her heart.

His head told him no good could come out of a romantic relationship, but his heart disagreed. And in affairs like these, the heart takes control.

But now, with something (someone) to live for, would he still carry on with his revenge? Now, when he had a reason to stay alive and out of jail?

As far as he was concerned, he had 3 options.

First, pretend like nothing's changed and go on with daily life. Second, win Lisbon over (because there was no way he would be unsuccessful), despite having to someday face the inevitable with Red John. And third, accept that Red John will be arrested by Lisbon, and pursue her with the knowledge that when it all went down, Red John would be taken into the CBI's custody.

Did he even have a choice?

Red John... he didn't want to give him up, but he didn't see another viable option. On reflection, his selfish need for vengeance was soothed slightly by the reasoning that his wife wouldn't have wanted him to become a murderer. And neither did Lisbon. To his surprise, Jane already felt a slight loosening of the tightness in his chest. Letting go wouldn't come right away, he knew that, but the ease with which Jane was moving on was startling. He couldn't help but wonder once again just how powerful this love was.

Jane had never truly believed that one could change for love, but life took him by surprise once again. Because he was well on his way. It had only been a few hours.

Curious.

Perhaps it was time to start with a game plan.

As it neared 8 am, Jane had an idea fully formed and ready. And it started with the end of this case.

Lisbon strode into the bullpen, the first one in the office as usual. Jane, pretending to sleep, observed her through his eyelashes. He was expecting her to continue her "ignore Jane" game, but she surprised him (once again) and made her way to his couch.

"Jane, I know you're awake."

Jane opened his eyes obediently. Her tone today was different, she seemed to regret their earlier conversation.

"Good morning, Lisbon. How are you on this fine day?" he asked, the epitome of cheerfulness.

Lisbon rolled her eyes despairingly, but her next words were serious. "Look, Jane. I'm sorry about yesterday. I said some things I didn't mean, and I'm sorry I hurt your feelings."

This time, Jane wasn't surprised. Her body language and her tone both pointed to an apology of sorts before she began speaking. However, the fact that the incurably stubborn woman was so willing to forgive him sent a familiar but dormant jolt of electricity through his abdomen. He cursed inwardly when he realized he still wasn't able to determine whether her feelings were platonic or something more. Honestly, what kind of a mentalist was he? He knew the minute, barely important details of Lisbon's life, but for the life of him he couldn't tell if she was in love. _That_ would have to change. And soon.

Her ability to unintentionally prevent him from reading her put a damper on his morning.

"No need to apologize, m'dear," Jane said airily, pleased to see a faint tinge of colour in her cheeks. She was clearly expecting a much different reaction from him, and she wasn't prepared for the lightness he was using.. "I understand. I believe I said some things that were uncalled for too."

"I'm serious about the case though. No more poking around, alright?" Lisbon said sternly, recovering her cool quickly.

"Lisbon, I promise. I won't screw you over," he promised, and he fully intended to keep it.

The brunette smile gratefully and continued to her office, but not before sending him a funny look. Jane frowned. Could it be? Blushes, conflicting gazes... those weren't the mark of an ordinary friendship. He decided to spend the rest of the day making certain he was sure, as well as surreptitiously finding out if Lisbon was ready for a relationship.

The team arrived not long after Lisbon had locked herself away, and the day was spent searching for new leads and evidence to incriminate Mark. Anything would do. They just needed to get enough to pick him up, and Cho and Jane would manage the rest.

Jane, for his part, spent the day watching Lisbon. He picked up on quite a few things, things he couldn't believe he had missed before, even when he was re-analyzing the past months. When she thought he wasn't looking, Jane caught her sending the strangest glances his way. Soulful, longing glances and glances of affection. And sometimes, looks full of trust. Lisbon had never truly trusted him on cases, believing that at some point he would go behind her back to solve the murder. This time, things were different. She trusted him to keep his words. And when they were together, she had fewer qualms about his teasing. Slight brushes of contact invariably made her colour, noticeable only to the trained eye but there nonetheless. For the umpteenth time Jane wondered how he could have possibly missed the signs.

Lisbon was in love. With him, but she deemed it hopeless and frankly, weak on her part.

Oh, he was _so_ going to prove her wrong.

Jane pulled the three other members of the SCU team aside.

"Listen. When we close the case, I'm going to invite the team for dinner, my treat. Make sure you have other plans," he said, dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

Van Pelt smirked triumphantly, and Rigsby fished into his pocket and passed Cho a twenty, sighing in resignation. Jane raised an eyebrows but didn't comment.

"So you're finally giving in to the obvious?" Cho asked in his usual monotone.

There was no point trying to deny his intentions.

Jane frowned indignantly. "Obvious? I didn't think so."

Van Pelt hid her growing smile. "Yes it was, Jane. Even Hightower knows. I think it's cute, though."

He did a double take, wordlessly asking for confirmation. Van Pelt nodded in support of her statement.

"Don't worry," Rigsby added. "We'll make sure you two get your alone time."

Lisbon chose this moment to leave her office. Upon seeing the group gathered before her, she stared suspiciously. "What are you guys doing?"

Jane smiled genially. "Lisbon, why hello! We were just bouncing some theories off one another, like a think tank."

She didn't buy it for a second, but to the team's relief she let the matter slide, choosing instead to show them the photo in her hands.

"That's Mark Fisher's car parked one block from the murder site, and the time stamp fits our timeline."

Rigsby took a closer look at the picture. "There goes his alibi," he commented.

"Cho, come with me. Let's go pick him up."

"Oh, can I come too?" Jane whined, acting like the three-year-old he could be.

Lisbon glanced at him appraisingly. "Fine. But _stay in the car._"

He shrugged. "Very well."

* * *

**Was it believable? I feel like Jane would have a harder time letting Red John go, but in this story he seems to have a mind of his own. I hope I at least made it seem reasonable...**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**Thanks to all those who reviewed, especially to Helen and April who reviewed anonymously. Good news-I know where this is going now, I just don't know how long it's going to be. Without further ado, chapter 3!  


* * *

**  
Jane, true to his word, was waiting in the car. Impatiently. It couldn't possibly take this long to arrest someone, could it? He drummed his fingers on the dashboard, checked for any sign of the team at the building's entrance, and checked his watch. Nothing for 10 minutes. That was odd, wasn't it?

Jane was just about to recline his seat when he heard a thud and some muffled yelling. He opened his door, but then grimaced and shut it again. No, he'd made a promise.

But then, his curiosity got the better of him when a figure came racing out of the fire escape, not yet with a pursuer in sight. Jane leapt out of the car when the man sprinted towards the Suburban, confirming with a glance that the man was in fact Mark Fisher. Now, without the car's walls in the way, he could hear Cho yelling at him from partway down the ladder.

"Mark Fisher?" Jane asked as the man drew nearer still. "We'd like to have a word with you."

Fisher stopped in his tracks, staring at him suspiciously. "You're not a cop."

Jane shrugged. "I'm a consultant," he supplied.

Without warning, Fisher drew a Swiss army knife out of his pocket and pointed it at Jane. "Get out of my way, I'm warning you."

Suddenly, a shape flew out from behind the car and tackled Mark Fisher to the ground. There was a loud huffing sound, and Fisher's fall was cushioned by his attacker. Jane rushed towards the fray, only to find Lisbon flipping Fisher onto his back and securing cuffs around his wrists. She was breathing heavily, but otherwise seemed unharmed. Lisbon pulled Fisher to his feet and escorted him to the Suburban. Jane followed at a distance.

Once Fisher was securely stored in the back seat, Lisbon turned to him angrily. "For once, can't you listen to me and stay in the car?"

At the CBI headquarters, the arrest wasn't yielding the results the team was hoping for. Cho had been grinding the guy all morning, but he refused to give an inch. While they had the suspect's car parked a mere block away, they had no conclusive evidence and the gun used to kill Freya has yet to be found. If Fisher played his cards right, he could avoid conviction.

"Your car was found one block from the crime scene. One block," Cho was saying.

"Look man, so my car was there. It doesn't make me guilty," Fisher rebutted, totally nonchalant.

Cho shut the case file forcefully. "You know what it gives you? Opportunity. You already have motive, or did you forget the argument the two of you were having four days ago?"

Fisher smirked. "Agent, if you have pictures of me killing someone, feel free to let me know. Until then, you've got nothing on me."

Hightower sighed in the observation room. "He's right. Without the murder weapon, we can't make the charges stick."

"Damn," Lisbon swore. "We needed a confession, and he's not cracking. We can hold him on the assault charges, but that's it."

Jane stood up from the desk at which he was sitting. "If I may make a suggestion?"

Lisbon rolled her eyes. "Go ahead, Jane."

"Let him go. We all know he's guilty, and he knows where the murder weapon is. If we let him go, he'll need to dispose of the gun before we can find it, and with surveillance on him we'll catch him in the act."

"Not bad," shrugged Hightower. "Do it."

Cho was informed of the plan, and he and Rigsby were assigned the first surveillance shift.

Now, much later, it was nearing midnight at the CBI. Van Pelt had already left to catch up on some sleep, leaving just Jane and Lisbon in the office. Lisbon was shut away in her office, Jane wasn't sure what she was doing. Knowing her, she was probably going over the case files for the umpteenth time. He decided it was high time for her to get some sleep, so he ventured over to her office.

"Lisbon, it's time—are you okay?" he asked, changing tactics midsentence. Lisbon was indeed going over the case notes, but she did not appear to be in the best of conditions. If Jane had to guess, he would say that she had the king of all muscle aches.

"Jane? I'm fine. Go home and get some rest," she all but groaned.

"No you're not, your shoulders are killing you," Jane stated matter-of-factly. "You probably should have been more careful when you took Fisher down. I appreciate the gesture, though."

Lisbon frowned at him, but decided not to argue with him. "I was in a bit of a rush, and as you can see I didn't do a spectacular job."

Jane gave her one of his brightest grins. "I think I can help with the pain. It's the least I can do, considering you saved my life."

"Jane, no. It's not professional, I'll just sleep it off—" Lisbon tried to argue, but Jane interrupted her.

"Come on, what's the harm? I've been told I'm an excellent masseur," Jane pressed. He really did want to give her that massage.

Lisbon looked at him, sizing him up. "No funny stuff."

Jane managed to stop himself from jumping up and clapping his hands with glee. He made his way behind Lisbon's desk and began kneading her shoulders, gently working out the knots.

"Geez, Lisbon. Your shoulders are like stone," he joked. "You need to relax."

Lisbon merely nodded, Jane's massage already making her drowsy. "There, that's better," he breathed, his breath tickling her ear.

Her breath hitched almost imperceptibly, and Jane hid his triumphant smirk. As the knots in her muscles slowly dissipated, his hands began moving slower and slower as they started to slide down towards Lisbon's back. Lisbon let out some sort of low growl from the back of her throat, and suddenly the mood changed.

What had started as something friendly and _mostly_ platonic had changed into something more intimate, something neither of them knew they were ready for, despite their feelings for one another. Lisbon turned in her chair to face him, and suddenly their faces were much too close together. Jane froze. This wasn't how this was supposed to work, they weren't ready yet.

They were frozen in that position for who knows how long, neither of them wanting to either move forwards or move away. Jane had just opened his mouth to speak when Lisbon's phone rang.

The spell was broken. Lisbon dove for her phone, and answered it with her usual "Lisbon."

"_Lisbon, it's Cho. Fisher's going to meet someone about our missing gun."_

**TBC**_  
_


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**Wow, sorry. It's been longer than I thought... I have no real defense, except that softball season is at crunch time. So, update are going to be sporadic... sorry about that! Thanks for all the lovely reviews, favourites and alert. They mean a lot to me, keep 'em coming! :)**

* * *

20 minutes later, the team plus Jane were packed into Cho's car, cautiously tailing their suspect. His phone call told them that he meeting Antoine Miller, a known arms dealer who the police have yet to apprehend. If everything went according to plan, Lisbon was planning on 2 arrests tonight. Around 17 minutes later, the black sedan they were following pulled over to the side of the road, and after glancing around surreptitiously, Mark Fisher climbed out and strode into the nearby alley.

"Why is it always a dark, abandoned alley at night?" Rigsby lamented.

"Street cred," Cho deadpanned.

Lisbon, Rigsby, Cho and Van Pelt dashed out of the car and stacked themselves behind the walls at the alley's entrance. Van Pelt silently poked a snake cam around the corner. Jane was on his best behaviour in the car, surprising to them all but certainly not unwelcome.

"Have you got the glock?" a man asked, the combination of the shadows and darkness masking his identity. The team assumed it was Miller.

Fisher pulled it out of his pocket. "Right here. It's been scrubbed and cleaned, that's all you needed, right?"

The unidentified man extended a gloved hand, and inspected the weapon carefully. "Yes, that should be good."

"How much can I get for it?"

"No more than $100."

Fisher contemplated for a split second. "Fine. You'll get it out of the state?"

The mysterious man raised his head in assent. Lisbon signalled the team to make the bust. They had all they needed to convict the two.

"CBI! Put the gun down and place your hands on your head!" Lisbon yelled as the team rounded the corner, weapons and scowls in place.

Fisher and the man now recognized as Miller scowled at their misfortune, but grudgingly obliged. Cho and Rigsby steered the men to the awaiting cars.

Back at the CBI, Lisbon and Jane were trying to worm a confession out of Fisher.

"I didn't do it," Fisher hissed once again, Lisbon and Jane interrogating him. "I loved Freya. Why would I kill her?"

"Good question," said Jane, eyes lighting up with interest. "Why don't you tell us?"

"I would, if there was anything to tell."

"Cut the crap, Mark," Lisbon snapped. "We found you running to a known arms dealer with a glock, the same type of gun that killed your girlfriend. How much do you want to wager on ballistics?"

Fisher chewed on his lip, eyes darting around the interrogation room nervously. Finally, "I want a lawyer."

Meanwhile, Cho and Rigsby were working on Miller. "You've got quite the rap sheet, Mr. Miller," Cho was saying.

"I sell second hand weapons at a reasonable price. It's not a crime," he shrugged nonchalantly.

"It is when you help conceal a murder weapon. That makes you an accessory after the fact. Did you know that makes you just as guilty as the killer?"

"How do you feel about death row, Mr. Miller?" asked Rigsby.

Miller scowled. "What do you want?"

"Who's your boss?"

Miller made no move to open his mouth. "Alright," said Cho. "Your loss. Rigsby, write him up."

"Fine, fine! It's Charlie Daparro," Miller burst out.

"The mob boss?" Rigsby clarified.

Miller nodded frantically. "Yes, him."

Cho nodded his thanks. "We'll try to spare you the needle. We'll be seeing you for more information."

And they left, leaving Miller to stew.

Ten minutes later, Rigsby and Cho were watching Fisher's interrogation from the observation room, hoping that Jane and Lisbon would be able to worm a confession out of Fisher before his lawyer showed. The door to the interrogation room opened and Van Pelt poked her head in. "Boss?"

Lisbon excused herself and stepped just outside with her junior agent. "What have you got, Van Pelt?"

"Ballistics came back a match. This is the gun that killed Freya."

"Alright, thanks Van Pelt," Lisbon dismissed the younger woman with a small smile.

She stormed back into the room stony faced. "So, ballistics are in, Mark. They're a match."

Mark looked like a deer caught in headlights, but he refused to give in without a fight. "I didn't do it."

"Oh, a likely story," Jane rolled his eyes. "We all know you killed her, we just want to know why. Did she want to leave you? Did you want out of the relationship but she just wouldn't listen?"

A pause, and then, "Bitch got what she deserved. She was cheating on me."

"No, she wasn't," Lisbon informed him angrily. "The man she was seeing was a CEO at her company. She was lined up for a major promotion, and she was meeting with him to discuss details."

At her words, Fisher dropped his head into his hands and shook it tearfully. Miscommunication and assumptions—they always managed to destroy a good thing. It was a pity, really. This time it cost a girl her life. As one, Lisbon and Jane left the pathetic excuse for a man to live with the consequences of his actions for the rest of his life.

"Case closed," sighed Lisbon, crossing the case's details off her whiteboard. "Who's getting pizza this time?"

"Actually, Lisbon, I'm taking everyone out. A nice, fancy dinner is just what the doctor ordered after a successfully closed case," Jane informed her smugly.

"Sounds good," Lisbon agreed.

Rigsby, Cho and Van Pelt exchanged knowing glances and one by one they made their excuses.

"I'd love to, Jane, but I've got family dinner," Van Pelt apologized, pulling off the required act flawlessly.

"Yeah, I'm meeting an old friend for dinner. It's long overdue," Cho shrugged with his usual lack of emotion.

Rigsby was less inconspicuous. "Sorry guys, but I've got a... date. Yeah..." he said, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.

"Guess it's just me and you, Lisbon," Jane informed her cheerfully.

Lisbon eyed the team suspiciously, but they held true to their word and didn't give Jane up. Cho shrugged apologetically.

"Okay then," she agreed, still giving her team questioning glances. "See you guys later."

They made to leave, but Jane was called back by one of the guys before they could. "Jane, a quick word?"

He turned to find himself under the scrutiny of the one and only Cho. The agent in question grabbed him by the upper arm and steered him away from curious ears.

"Lisbon's been through enough shit in her life," he started, serious as a heart attack. "If you ever hurt her, intentionally or not, just know that I speak all of us when I say that no one will ever find your body."

Jane knew the Asian agent meant business. "Don't worry, Cho. I want the world for her."

Cho nodded and stepped aside, allowing the blond consultant to pass, all the while keeping his stern glare on his back.

Lisbon was waiting for him by the elevator. "What was that about?"

"Oh, nothing," Jane lied. "Just giving me some car advice."

Lisbon didn't buy it, but she chose not to say anything. "No funny stuff tonight," she stated as they stepped into the elevator.

"Lisbon, I'd never seduce you over a meal, remember?"

Lisbon wasn't sure, but she was sure she could see a flirtatious sparkle in Jane's eyes. She managed to convince herself that it was just Jane being Jane, but she felt a strange rush of adrenaline before she could stomp down her emotions. Linking arms cordially, the two strode off to Jane's car in silence.

The ride home from the restaurant was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. Lisbon was loathe to admit it, but she had had a lovely time. Perhaps _too_ lovely of a time... Jane had taken her to a top class Italian restaurant, his seemingly psychic powers coming in handy. Italian was indeed her favourite. Jane had ordered them a lovely red wine, some delightful concoction that probably cost more than her week's salary. Jane had but one glass, seeing as he was the designated driver (much to Lisbon's dismay). By the time their food had arrived, Lisbon was thoroughly enjoying herself. Because of the slight buzz in her head, she convinced her traitorous thoughts, not because of the company. And the food had been exquisite. The infernal man hadn't been lying when he said it was the best Italian in the state. They enjoyed a plate of breadsticks, lasagne for Jane and penne with shrimp for Lisbon, and a scoop of gelato each to top off the evening.

Lisbon had been expecting an awkward or infuriating experience, but to her surprise, Jane hadn't made fun of her once during the meal, and he was a surprisingly easy person to talk to. The pair talked about everything and nothing, but managed to stay off the topic of work throughout the entire meal. A feat to be proud of—Lisbon often found that when dating coworkers, especially other cops, sometimes the only things they had in common was the job. Not that this was a date. No, it certainly wasn't a date. _Where had that thought come from? _Lisbon wondered. They were just two colleagues having a pleasant meal... with expensive wine. There was no need to read into it. She mentally berated herself for even letting the thought cross her mind.

At around 10:30, Jane dropped her off at her apartment. Due to her slightly incapacitated condition (the wine, she was sure, not Jane's effect on her), she didn't object when he walked her to her door. For a few seconds, they stood there awkwardly, neither wanting to break the silence or move away.

Finally, Lisbon was the one who broke it. "Thanks, Jane. I needed that, and I had a good time."

Jane smiled slightly. "Surprised, Agent Lisbon?"

Lisbon laughed softly, always amazed by his perceptiveness. "Maybe a little."

She was definitely imagining the look in his eyes. For a split second, she could have sworn she saw a hint of desire, lust, and—dare she say it—love in his eyes. But of course, she was imagining it. At least, so she told herself. Preoccupied by her whirling thoughts, Jane's next actions caught her by surprise. Gently, softly, he brought her hand up to his lips and placed a chaste kiss there, lingering just too long to be called platonic.

"Good night, dear Teresa."

And then he left.

Lisbon opened her apartment door with shaking hands. It was just a kiss on the hand, why was she so affected?

But then she remembered the longing gaze in his eyes as his lips brushed her skin, and she remembered the soft affection in his voice when he wished her goodnight...

The only thing she could do was stare at her hand in wonder.


	5. Chapter 5

**Anyone remember this? I know, I suck. I'm sorry for the wait. I'm writing bits and pieces of the rest of the story at a time, so I may not update again until I'm finished, when I'll post the whole thing at once. I promise, I'll finish this eventually...**

**Disclaimer: nothing's changed since last year...**

* * *

The rest of the week passed uneventfully, yet Jane and Lisbon were walking on eggshells around each other. After their _non-date that was a date but not really since neither of them will ever admit it_, and more importantly, after his lips touched her hand, neither was sure where they stood with the other. As was their standard, instead of talking it out, the pair dealt with their confusion the way they always deal with their problems; one never spent more than 5 minutes alone with the other. The rest of the team noticed a change in their dynamic, but aside from some gentle prodding from Van Pelt, resulting in only non-answers, nobody commented on it. Two open-and-shut cases later, Lisbon found herself eager to get out of the office. Half a week of nothing but routine interviews and paperwork was starting to grate on her patience. The end of this week was a blessing, and she was quite looking forward to curling up in front of a movie with some ice cream.

A knock at the door jolted her away from the paperwork she wasn't doing. She sighed, "What is it, Jane?"

Jane bounded in, cheery and alert even for his standards. "Hello, Lisbon!" he exclaimed. "I was hoping to drag you out of these dreary quarters and join you for your Friday plans."

Lisbon huffed in annoyance. "What makes you think I'll let you?"

Jane smiled his 10 000 watt smile. "I've heard movies are much better with company. I'll bring the ice cream!"

"How did you—never mind. I just want to relax tonight, Jane."

"It'll be relaxing, I promise. I need a break a much as you do."

"I doubt that," Lisbon scoffed. "You've spent the past three days napping on the couch."

Sensing she was caving, Jane swept over and took her by the wrist, coaxing her out the door. Lisbon rolled her eyes, but her feeble attempt at resistance convinced no one.

"None of these murders have deserved my brainpower."

Lisbon muttered something along the lines of "cocky bastard," but Jane either didn't hear or chose not to comment.

The tension wasn't completely dissipated, but some of their usual banter had been restored.

_With any luck we'll get through the night without incident._

"So, what movie do you want to watch?" she asked as they settled themselves on the couch.

"Oh, don't pretend you haven't already chosen."

The petite agent cocked an eyebrow. "Really? What movie did I choose then?"

Jane grinned triumphantly. "_The Princess Bride_, of course. And I applaud you choice, Lisbon. It's almost as sarcastic as you are."

She sighed; honestly, she should have known better. "I thought this was going to be relaxing."

Jane ignored the barb. "Give me one minute to serve out the ice cream."

Lisbon half-stood and called after him, "The bowls are in the—"

"Top left-hand cupboard below the mugs."

In a few minutes, the pair was seated and the movie was playing. The moderate normalcy they had regained in her office was wearing off, and the strain of the past week was rearing its head again. Though she hadn't been tired upon leaving the bullpen, Lisbon found that despite the tension, drowsiness was catching up to her rather quickly. She knew the movie almost by heart, but she found that scenes were blurring together this time. She was sure the man beside her was partially to blame (how long had their legs been touching?). She was too tired to give him much thought, however, and before long she gave into her exhaustion.

Lisbon woke just as the movie came to a close, and to her surprise found her head on Jane's shoulder, his arm draped possessively around her, his fingers in her hair. Lisbon practically leapt off her couch, jumping away from the invisible line between personal and professional. A line they'd been toeing for months—years even—but to Lisbon, this was a step too far one time too many. When her sudden movement caused Jane to jerk awake, she felt guilty for a split second. Sleep was already so hard to come by for that man, she figured she really should've slipped off to her bedroom and left him on the couch.

"What's going on?" asked a sleep-muddled Jane.

She started babbling, trying to shoo him away, "I should get to bed. I need to catch up on some sleep, and it's—"

A now alert Jane cut off her babbling. "What's going on," he repeated, his hand resting gently on her arm.

She opened her mouth to say something, _anything_, but found there was nothing she could say. She stared dumbly at him, her gaze never leaving his, and she hoped that for once he'd just let things be and _go_...

Her silence seemed to have touched a nerve. "Dammit Lisbon, what's going on?" he demanded for a third time. "One day you're perfectly happy letting me take you out for dinner, the next you run from a conversation, you won't make eye contact, you're not even comfortable watching a movie with a friend! _What's going on?"_

Lisbon thought that was hypocritical and unfair. While she would admit to avoiding him recently, he certainly hadn't put effort into rectifying the situation. And no matter what he said, a friend didn't kiss your hand like that.

"It's not like you've been putting much of an effort either," she snarled, partly because it was true, partly because he was asking a question she didn't want to answer.

He's yelling now, his face only a foot from hers. "_What are you so scared of?_"

He caught her off guard, because even though she's known him for years, it's still Jane and he still surprises her at least once a day. It was his sort of question: blunt, aimed straight at the weakest links in her armour. She was immediately put on the defensive again.

"I – I'm not—"

"The hell you're not," he cut in, visibly starting to deflate. "Nobody has a fairy tale life, Lisbon," he said gently, "but that doesn't stop them from living life and taking risks."

"That's rich coming from you," she pointed out, less angrily now, in an effort to steer away from dangerous waters.

"Just answer the question," Jane said tiredly, and in that moment he looked like he had aged 10 years.

Lisbon had opened her mouth to answer—honest to God, she was going to answer_—_but for the second time that night she was at a loss for words. Instead, she glanced quickly at the hand covering her arm, the light in the room just catching the edge of the small gold band. The fleeting look was so short that most people would have missed it, but Jane wasn't most people. He took a small step back, his forehead creasing into a frown, then understanding.

"I'll always love my family, but it's a different type of love now. I need you to understand that," he said urgently, eyes boring into her, his other hand coming to rest on her free arm.

"And Red John?" she asked quietly, the words just making it past the lump in her throat.

"When we catch Red John," started Jane, choosing his words carefully, "he'll be convicted in a court of law and sentenced to death. I don't want to be the man whose only purpose is revenge anymore, Lisbon."

"I'm sorry."

Jane paused in genuine confusion. "What for?"

"For acting weird last week, for what I s—"

He cut her off with his mouth, his lips gently caressing hers in a tender exploration, his arms wrapping around her slim waist. At first Lisbon stood stock still, but before long she relaxed into his arms, her eyes fluttering shut as she slid her hands up to rest on the back of his neck. It was short, sweet, and not nearly long enough for either party. Just a small taste of what was to come.

Lisbon pulled away slightly, her smile reaching her eyes for the first time in days. No words were exchanged; they found they didn't need them anymore. Their lips joined once again, at first feather-light, then growing in need and intensity as they learned each other's mouths. Time had ceased all meaning. They weren't Jane and Lisbon anymore, just a man and a woman lost in each other. Nothing mattered but the feeling of lips on skin, hands in hair, hearts racing, adrenaline pumping.  


* * *

  
**Feel free to review (and rant at the delay... again, I'm sorry).**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: It's mine! ... ... ... ...not.**

**The story takes a turn away from J/L here. And let's just pretend the finale didn't happen. Just so you know.**

* * *

Two months passed, two months of blissful peace and less-annoying Jane. In retrospect, Lisbon should've realized that it couldn't last. She was in her office, Jane on her couch, when a distinctly ruffled Van Pelt knocked hesitantly on her door. She waved her in casually, but already her mind spun with possibilities, each one less likely than the last.

"Boss? Jane? You guys had better see this…"

She said nothing more, and the pair followed her out with an inexplicable sense of doom washing over them.

An envelope lay on Van Pelt's desk. It was addressed to Jane, followed by a red smiley face that could be only one person.

Jane's hand, suddenly pale and shaky, slid the envelope open and poured the flash drive and note inside onto the desk. His eyes had become blank and distant, and it took several tries for him to insert the flash drive into the computer. A single file appeared on the screen. Van Pelt glanced at Jane, and upon seeing his nod, took a deep breath and clicked the file.

A clearly homemade movie appeared on the screen, showing a cemetery that was instantly recognized by the team.

"No," Rigsby breathed.

The camera moved deliberately slowly through the maze of graves until it reached two that were familiar. Each grave sported a dripping red smile, painted on in something that Lisbon desperately hoped wasn't blood. Not a word was spoken, in the bullpen or the movie. The camera focused on each grave in turn, giving the viewer a good view of the new additions. Then, a knife blade passed momentarily across the camera before the screen went black, making it painfully clear who was filming.

Van Pelt, seeing that Jane wasn't going to move anytime soon, lifted the note with shaking fingers and read, "Dear Mr. Jane, I think you need another lesson in humility. It looks like you forgot the last one. I'll be seeing you soon. RJ."

As one, the team turned their eyes to Jane, then Lisbon.

"Van Pelt, who brought this up?" Lisbon asked, trying not to shake from anger and disgust.

"Security," she responded, her voice quiet. "Dave said he found by the front doors."

"Cho, pull the security footage."

"You won't find anything," Jane said, moving his eyes from the note, his voice carefully emotionless.

"We won't know until we look," she said firmly.

Cho nodded. "On it, boss."

"Rigsby, Van Pelt, get a forensics team and check out the cemetery. Check for surveillance footage, evidence, anything."

The pair nodded and practically fled the bullpen. Now that they were alone, Lisbon gently touched Jane's shoulder. "Jane?"

He walked away without so much as a glance.

It was late that night, when she was the only one left in the office, when Lisbon saw it. The movie flickered on the screen for the umpteenth time, and Lisbon's eyes were barely able to focus on the screen, let alone on minute details. But she couldn't leave, couldn't go back to her empty apartment (Jane was being monitored by Rigsby, after his reaction the team unanimously decided not to leave him alone), not without finding something. Despite Jane's promises, his endless reassurances, he was slipping back to the vengeful man he had been in the past. The man, she supposed, he would never truly be free of.

Really, she should have known better than to trust.

The knife flashed past again, and Lisbon paused the movie, about to admit defeat for the night. She gave the knife a look of deepest loathing, and that was when something on the knife's blade caught her attention. More out of a desire to be thorough than anything, she enlarged the section of the blade and saw what appeared to be two lines of writing etched onto the knife.

_"Der Hölle Rache kocht in meinem Herzen,  
Tod und Verzweiflung flammet um mich her!"_

With sweaty palms and a racing heart, Lisbon quickly googled the phrase. The phrase was the first two lines of the aria "Hell's vengeance boils in my heart", from the opera _The Magic Flute_. The translation read:

"Hell's vengeance boils in my heart;  
Death and despair blaze around me!"

Her first thought was how fitting a phrase it was for Red John. She wracked her brains for some sort of clue the lines might give her, but came up blank. She was just about to dismiss the poetry as another one of Red John's quirks when she remembered Jane's words.

_"Red John thinks of himself as a showman; an artist. He has a strong sense of theatre."_

_"Red John doesn't make mistakes. Everything we get, he gives us for a reason."_

_Why _did Red John want her to see this? Or, rather, why did Red John want _Jane _to see this? He would have expected Jane to be the one pouring over evidence late into the night, not her. Her thoughts went back to the note. _I'll be seeing you soon._ Pieces started to click together. The theatre. Lines from the opera. Hints at a meeting to come. She checked the Opera House's website. _The Magic Flute_ was listed under upcoming attractions. In the comments section, someone listed under the name RJ had posted "I'm waiting."

And she knew.

Red John wanted to meet Jane face to face.

She couldn't dawdle. Jane would figure out the clue ten times faster than her tomorrow. She could _not_ give Red John what he wanted, and, more importantly, she could _not_ let Jane take the risk.

She'd have to find him first.

* * *

**I know, more RJ. J/L will still happen, promise.**

**Until next time!**


End file.
